Key to Hell (Hell Night Series Book 4), page 26
EMO
I WATCH RELLA AS SHE stands there holding the stump of my father’s dick in one bloody hand and the knife in the other. I don’t know if she’s in shock or she’s revolted by her actions, but her face is pale, her eyes wide and vacant, and she’s breathing heavily.
The knife clatters to the floor, followed by her letting go of Deacon’s phallus. Seconds later, she looks up at me, and my heart fucking jumps in my chest when I realize she’s going to pass out.
“Fuck,” I hiss and dive for her, my arms sliding around her before she crashes to the dirty floor.
My knees hit the floor and I cradle her to my chest. Trouble drops to his beside me while Judge and JW hover around. I rip the bloody gloves from her hands.
“I fuckin’ knew I should have restricted her from coming,” Trouble growls.
I ignore him, keeping my eyes locked on Rella. No matter how much Trouble may not like it, Rella is a grown woman who can make her own choices. She chose to be here.
Her brows pucker, and she lets out a low moan. The sound punches me in the gut.
“Rella?” I rumble thickly.
Her frown deepens, but then her amazing green eyes slit open.
“Aziah?” she croaks, sounding like her throat is filled with sandpaper.
“I’m here.”
Her eyes meet mine, and she blinks several times, like she’s trying to focus.
I lift my eyes to Trouble. “Take her back to your place. I’ll be there as soon as I’m done here.”
He nods and opens his mouth to reply, but Rella’s firm “No” has his mouth snapping closed. We both look down at her.
“You need to go with your brother. You did what you needed to do. You don’t need to be here for the rest of it.”
She tries to sit up, but I hold her to my chest, not letting her move. She huffs out a breath.
“I want to be here for the rest, Aziah. I need to watch with my own eyes as he dies.” She lifts her hand and cups my cheek. “I’m fine.”
“Please, Rella,” Trouble implores, gaining her attention. “It’s only going to get worse from here. You think this is bad?” He juts his chin toward my father’s unconscious form. His eyes bounce to me, then back to Rella. “That will be nothing in comparison.”
“I know, and I promise I’m fine. I think it was just the adrenaline dump after….” She trails off.
He sighs, drops his head, and grips the back of his neck. She reaches out and lays a hand on his thigh. His eyes meet hers.
“I know I should probably be bothered by what I did and what I know is to come, but all I feel is the pain he’s caused Aziah and me, and even you and JW and Judge. That man deserves every single bloody and painful thing coming to him, and I want to see it through.”
The pleading in her tone has my stomach clenching. I look to Trouble, about to tell him to fuck off—he may be my brother in every sense that matters, but there’s no way I’ll let him take this away from her—when he lets of out a long breath and nods.
He grabs her hands, and we both help her to her feet. I’m glad to see the color back in her cheeks. Trouble grabs one of the only chairs that’s not smashed and sets it to the side.
“If you’re going to stay, will you at least sit down so we don’t have to worry about you falling again?”
I walk her over to the chair in case she becomes dizzy again, but more so because I don’t want to let go of her hand yet. She gives mine a squeeze before letting go. I tear my eyes away from her and turn back to my father. JW’s standing beside the chair, the handheld propane torch in his hand.
“I figured we’d better cauterize it before he bleeds out prematurely.”
Trouble grabs the torch from him, turns the dial, and a high-pressure flame shoots out of the nozzle. An evil gleam lights his eyes as he approaches my father.
Rella isn’t the only one who deserves to exact their own form of torture. We’ve all been hurt by my father’s actions in some way or another.
When Deacon begins to scream behind the tape, my heart thumps heavily in my chest. I fucking love the sound and wish I thought to bring a recorder so I can hear it over and over. The smell of burned flesh hits the air, and I breathe in deep, sucking that shit into my lungs.
Once he’s done, he tosses the tank to the side and steps back, looking satisfied.
I move forward, pulling my favorite knife from the sheath on my hip. Rella and Trouble have had their turn.
Now he’s mine.
I’ve never seen my father scared before. Seeing it now is immensely gratifying. For years I’ve dreamed about all the ways I could kill him. Now that I’m in the moment, I’m not sure how I want to end his miserable life. There are so many possibilities.
Stopping in front of him, my boots squishing in the puddle of blood, I tilt my head to the side and regard the piece of shit. Sweat pours down his face, his eyes are wide, and his complexion is ghastly pale. His breathing is erratic and unsteady.
I set the edge of the blade against the second knuckles of his left hand. Deacon grunts, his hands twitching against the arms of the chair.
“I’ve come up with many different ways to kill you over the years,” I state calmly. “But none of them come close to the pain you put Rella and me through.
I press down, hearing the crunch of bone as the knife cuts through his fingers, severing them. His muffled screams are like listening to a calming symphony.
I move the knife to the other hand. Deacon tries to jerk it away but with the barb wire biting into his wrists, he can’t go far. I’m sure if he still had his dick, he’d be pissing himself right now. As it is, the foul stench of shit permeates the air.
Four more fingertips fall to the floor.
I flash my teeth at him, letting him see the enjoyment on my face. I walk around until I’m standing behind the chair.
“Tell me, Dad. Do you regret hurting Rella and me now?”
His sniveling cries are pitiful as he jerks his head up and down.
I grip the hair on top of his head and yank back. Bending low, I put my mouth at his ear. “That’s too fucking bad. There’s no amount of pain I could put you through that could compare to what you did to us. What you did to Rella,” I hiss. “I want you to look at her.” I lift my own eyes to Rella. Her face is pale, but her jaw is hard as she shoots hatred from her eyes to my father. “I want you to look at Rella and know that this is all for her. You fucked up, old man, when you decided she was going to be your source of enjoyment.”
Standing back up, I keep my eyes on Rella. Some of the animosity leaves her features when she darts her gaze to me for a brief moment. When she flicks them back down, I tighten my grip on Deacons hair, set the blade to his hairline, and begin to saw back and forth. He jerks, trying his best to get away from the knife hacking through his scalp, but between the wire around his throat and my grip on his hair, he can’t go anywhere.
His skull is exposed by the time I’m done scalping him. I toss the chunk of hair and skin on to the floor. I gauge Rella reaction to the bloody mess, and I’m surprised and pleased she seems to be okay. Her hatred runs too deep to feel any kind of remorse for the bastard.
I walk around until I’m standing in front of my father. Deacon’s head is slumped forward, but his chest is still moving, so I know he’s just passed out. I grab the pair of needle nose pliers, box cutter, and a smelling salt stick from the black bag on the table. After I snap the stick, I shove it under his nose. He jolts and jerks his head up. A mask of pain crumples his face seconds later.
“You don’t get off that easy,” I inform him darkly. “Mercy doesn’t exist for you. You’ll feel every single fuckin’ thing I do to you. You’ll look me in the eye as you take your last breath.”
I jerk my chin to Trouble. “Hold his head still.”
He moves behind the chair and forces Deacons head against the back. I wedge one side of the needle nose pliers under his eyelid, pull it taut, and use the box cutter to slice away the skin. I move to the second eyelid and do the same.
I step back and take a moment to look at my handy work.
It’s a start, but I’m not nearly done.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
EMO
I TRY TO TURN MY EYES away as Rella undresses in my bathroom, but they have a mind of their own. They stay glued to her as she unveils each inch of her glorious body. I’m mesmerized, captivated, and fucking enraptured by her.
We just got back from the lodge. As soon as we made it through the door, she grabbed my hand and tugged me to the bathroom, saying we both needed a shower. I tried protesting, saying I would take the one in the hall, but she just shook her head and closed us both in the master bathroom.
Now, all I can do is stare at her, torn between pulling her into my arms and savoring every bit of her flesh, and running away to keep her safe from me.
She’s down to her panties and bra when she shyly peeks up at me through her lashes. Her cheeks are tinted red as she twirls her fingers together.
“You can’t shower with your clothes on,” she informs me, the husky note in her voice doing fuck all for my rapidly growing cock.
“This isn’t a good idea,” I murmur gruffly.
She tilts her head to the side. “We’re taking a shower, Aziah. We’ve done it before. I don’t know about you, but I can’t stand his blood on me anymore.”
I don’t like his tainted blood on her either. It sends a blind rage through me and makes me want to scrub every inch of her body.
She approaches me, and I’m ensnared by her gaze.
When her nimble fingers grab the bottom of my shirt and start to lift it, her knuckles graze my abs. I release a shudder and bite back a groan. Against my better judgement, I lift my arms and help her take off my shirt.
Her eyes slide down my chest, her tongue darting out to lick along her bottom lip, and my cock jerks painfully in my jeans. I want to rip away her bra and yank her to my chest so I can feel her breasts against me.
She steps back and lifts her head. “You finish and meet me in the shower,” she says quietly.
Before I have a chance to say anything, she’s already turned the spray on. With her back to me, she quickly rids herself of her bra and panties, giving me a glimpse of her round ass before stepping into the shower and closing the door behind her. The glass is frosted, but I can still see her silhouette. I grit my teeth and look away.
I release a shaky sigh. Can I do this? Can I walk into that shower knowing she’s naked? She was right, we’ve done it once before, but this time is different. The vibe in here is different. I barely kept my shit together the last time. I’m not so sure I’ll be able to a second time.
I know what she wants, but am I the man to give it to her? Can I be the person she needs to explore a sexual relationship? Lord fucking knows I don’t deserve to be that man, but fuck if I can think about another man with her. It makes me want to bash my head through the goddamn wall. No one will ever be good enough for her, no matter how saintly he is.
Why has she chosen me? Why has fate thrown us together? If I wasn’t who I was and hadn’t done the things I’ve done to her, I’d grab a hold of her and never let go. I’d give her every reason to want to stay and love me just as much as I love her.
And I do love her. I don’t know when it happened, but some time or another it’s changed from the brotherly love I used to feel for her to this new soul-deep kind of love that takes my fucking breath away.
I just wish our pasts weren’t what they were.
I push away my conflicting thoughts for now and reach for the snap on my jeans. I’m covered in blood and want the shit off me. To say Deacon was torn to shreds by the time I got done with him would be putting it mildly. There wasn’t an inch of skin left on him that wasn’t newly marked. Over half of his blood is now soaking into the wooden floor of the lodge, not to mention the amount that’s all over my clothes.
I peel off my jeans and toss them to the side to be burned later. Grabbing the shower door handle, I pull it open, and a billow of fog hits my face. Again, my treacherous eyes find Rella immediately. She’s under the spray, her long hair falling over her shoulders and plastered against her skin. The strands cover her breasts, but her nipples peek out. My mouth fucking waters with the desperate need to latch my lips around the hard, little peaks.
My eyes travel down her slim stomach, over her flared hips, and lock on the dark curls at the top of her mound.
Shit, this was a bad idea.
When my eyes move back up to meet hers, I find her watching me just as closely. Her arms are hanging by her sides, but I still notice the trembling in her hands, giving away her nervousness.
She grabs a rag off the shelf and clutches it in her tight fist.
“Can… can I wash you?”
And have her hands all over my body? Even with the barrier of the rag between us, it’ll be blissful at the same time torturous.
Even so, I jerk my head up in a nod. A smile touches her lips, barely enough to notice.
She grabs the bottle of body wash. “Turn around.”
Grinding my molars, I turn and give her my back. I suck in a breath when the rag touches my shoulders. I can feel the indent of her fingers, and I wish it was her bare flesh touching me. With slow movements, she glides the rag to the other shoulder, then down the rest of my back. She takes her time, massaging the soap into my skin as she washes every inch she comes across. She pauses when she reaches the top of my glutes, but it only lasts a moment before she begins moving again. My muscles tense because it feels so damn good to have her cleaning me. She squats as she moves past my ass and down one leg, then the other.
I feel her standing behind me, but I don’t turn around.
“Aziah,” she calls softly.
I close my eyes for a moment before I turn and face her, making sure to keep enough room between us so my rock-hard shaft doesn’t touch her.
She smiles at me as she grabs my arm and takes the rag to it. Her eyes move to her task, but I keep mine on her, unable to look away from the beautiful woman in front of me. Dropping my arm, she moves to the next, her gaze remaining focused and intent. Once she’s finished, she lays the rag on my chest and works it over one pec to the other. My ab muscles bunch.
This is a new experience for me. One I’m finding I really fucking like and already know I’ll want to do thousands of times.
My breath gets stuck in my throat, and I throw out a hand over her shoulder to the shower wall to hold myself up when she guides the rag over my lower stomach. I tip my head back and gulp in air. My cock throbs and jerks.
I wait with part anticipation and part anxiety for her to wash the part of me that’s straining toward her, so I’m momentarily surprised when she totally bypasses my cock and bends down to wash the front of my legs. Looking down, knowing I’m right there bobbing in her face and preparing to apologize, I’m met with the top of her bent head as she looks down to my feet.
As if feeling my eyes on her, she lifts her head, her eyes landing on my cock for only a second before they meet mine. Heat blossoms on her cheeks.
With our eyes still locked together, she slowly glides the rag back up my leg. I ball my hand into a fist and press it against my thigh when she doesn’t stop until her knuckles hit my balls. I bare my teeth and hiss out a breath, hoping she stops, but secretly praying she doesn’t. My forbidden prayers are answered when she wraps the rag around my length and begins a slow glide back and forth. I almost lose it when the rag falls from her hand and her bare fingers grip my rock hard flesh.
“Rella,” I groan deep in my throat and squeeze my eyes shut. “Fuck.”
Her hand feels like heaven, and I know I won’t last if she keeps touching me. This is so fucking wrong. I can’t let this happen, especially with her on her knees. She should never be on her knees for any man.
Opening my eyes, I wrap my hand around hers, stopping her movements. She looks up at me, her brows furrowed.
“We gotta stop,” I tell her hoarsely.
She frowns, but thankfully doesn’t protest. I’m not sure I’d have the strength to deny her if she did. Grabbing the rag, she stands and hands it to me.
“Will you wash me now?” Her voice is timid and hopeful. My pulse skyrockets at the thought of touching all her intimate parts.
There’s no other choice to be made except to give her what she wants, even if I’ll burn in hell for it.
I grab the rag and squirt more soap on it, then rub it together until there’s a good lather. She turns around so I can wash her back first, pulling her hair over one shoulder. Her back looks smooth and blemish-free, and I wonder what it would feel like against my lips. Her tattoo has healed nicely and is a stark contrast to her pale skin.
I pull in a deep breath and begin on her shoulders. I try to detach myself from the situation, but there’s no goddamn hope for it. I rub the rag down her arm, moving slow and meticulous. As much as I shouldn’t be enjoying this, I am. So much so, I’m not sure which I like more. Her washing me or me washing her.
After her other arm is done, it’s time to work on her back. I take my time, knowing the lower I go, the harder it’s going to get. With her upper and middle back done, there’s no other choice but to move downward. I keep my eyes averted from her ass as I wash the plump globes. For a woman who’s kept herself locked in a house for years, she’s very firm and trim.
I bite back a curse when I move to her legs and she parts them a few inches. My eyes get caught on the lips barely poking out, glistening from the water or, God forbid, her arousal, I’m not sure which.
Fucking Christ.
I quickly wash her legs and get back to my feet. My willpower is crumbling fast, and I need to get this done so I can get the hell away.
As soon as I’m standing, she turns to face me. Her lip are parted and her breaths are coming in little pants. Her eyes reflect little green emeralds as she gazes up at me with… desire.
